


What You Require

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Elementary (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Crossover, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Not Beta Read, Patronus, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: Marcus meets a strange (cute) boy in the Room of Requirement...





	

Marcus found his way to the Room of Requirement after having a nightmare.

He’d been there before; last time, it’d been a room filled with blankets and pillows, and he’d finally been able to sleep. He still had nightmares of his father, though he’d been in Azkaban for years now. The shame and fear of being the son of a Death Eater weighed heavily on him, some days, especially given he was a Gryffindor–but he knew, logically, that he wasn’t to blame for his father’s actions. For what his father had done.

This time, when he walked into the Room of Requirement, it was a warm, inviting room, that seemed to stretch in all directions as far as the eye could see. The ceiling was high, so high he had to crane his neck, and even then he had to squint to see the stone arches. The floor was thick, luscious carpet, and it was soft under his bare feet as he walked in.

In the middle of the room was a boy, wearing grey pyjamas.

Marcus had seen him before; he was a Ravenclaw, with a vine wood wand. His face was slender and strangely adult, his eyes dark and intelligent. He was English, and rumour had it that he’d come all the way from some extremely posh boarding school just to study at Hogwarts–people also said he was _smart,_ the kind of way Hermione Granger was smart, but even better. He was also an outcast. Marcus had seen him wandering the halls before, his uniform always untidy and lazily worn, his face bored and disinterested. Marcus had caught his eye, once or twice, and smiled. The other boy had never smiled back.

He was surrounded by a glowing, brilliant blue light, gesturing his wand in a fluid, round motion. Marcus’ eyes widened in shock, and he involuntarily drew a stunned breath; he’d never seen this spell before.

The boy kept gesturing, his body moving with the movements of his arm, until the blue light grew brighter, brighter–suddenly, there was a burst of brilliant white light, and Marcus was frozen in place, awe filling him as the light took form, became a shape.

It was an owl.

The boy stared at the animal, standing just as still as Marcus, his lips parted in shock.

Neither of them moved. Marcus realised the boy still didn’t know he was there.

He reached out, this mysterious boy, and touched his fingers to the owl’s glowing body. The bird leaned into his hand, but seemed to move through him, its body made purely of colour and light.

The apparition and the boy seemed to connected, so together in their uniqueness, that Marcus felt he was interrupting; he turned to go, but froze, when a voice said,

“You needn’t run.”

Marcus realised it was the boy who had spoken. He turned back, cheeks hot. The boy was looking at him, and as Marcus watched, the owl disappeared, shimmering away in a haze of light. Marcus swallowed thickly, tugging at the hem of the Quidditch t-shirt he always wore to bed.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sorry,” Marcus gestured over his shoulder, in the direction he’d come from, though he was unsure whether the door was even still there, “I’ll just, uh,”

“Stay, if you like.” The boy suggested. “The room doesn’t bring people together for nothing.”

Marcus blinked, unused to the smooth, posh-sounding accent. “Uh, I just… I was just looking for a place to sleep.”

The boy nodded. “I see. My name’s Sherlock. What’s your name?”

“…Marcus. Sherlock’s a funny name, ain’t it?”

Sherlock smiled bitterly, as if he was tired of hearing that. Marcus remembered seeing him walking the hallways alone, and immediately regretted commenting.

“It’s… a nice name, though. I like your accent.”

Sherlock blinked, surprised. He looked down at his bare feet, and scratched at his neck.

“Well, thank you.” He responded, clearing his throat. Marcus grinned; the other boy was obviously shy. He found it really cute. "I, um. I like yours as well. There aren't many Americans here."

“What was that spell you were doing?” Marcus walked closer, curling his toes in the thick carpet as he did, “It looked cool.”

“It’s the Patronus Charm.”

“I’ve never heard of it. Can you teach me?”

Sherlock hesitated. “It… requires skill.”

Marcus smirked. “I’m top of my class.”

“…Oh. Sorry, I’m not used to-”

“People bein’ on your level?”

Sherlock fidgeted, uneasy. “I suppose. I like Hermione Granger. She’s quite intelligent.”

Marcus nodded, produced his wand. As he got closer, the blush on Sherlock’s cheeks seemed to grow darker, his pale face lit by a source of light within the room that Marcus couldn’t identify. As Marcus watched, he licked his lips nervously.

“C’mon,” Marcus held out his wand, just to show he meant it, “show me.”

Sherlock smiled, hesitantly, with a nervousness that made Marcus like him even more.

“Alright.”

 

 


End file.
